Page 182 of Unbound

“I know,” she snaps, but it’s half-hearted. “New York is only like four hours away and I can take the train. And it’s not that bad, I can visit whenever—”

I raise my hands, trying to quiet her growing volume.

“I wasn’t going to say anything like that.”

She looks at me then, cat-like eyes of gray reddened and sad. “I don’t want him to see that I’m upset—”

“You don’t have to have it together, you know, to be with him. To deserve him.” I run a hand through my hair. “You know that, right? Rhys was a mess when you found each other, and you fell in love with him anyway.”

Sadie chews on her lip, eyes darting toward the door where Rhys and Max both stand. My best friend locks his eyes on Sadie immediately, like a magnet, brow furrowing as he reads the distress she’s so desperately trying to hide.

“Besides,” I drop my voice as he heads across the lawn toward us. “I think crying because you’re going to miss your boyfriend is very normal behavior.”

“Hey. Everyone okay?”

Rhys eyes us both and I smile and step away, but not before giving him a quick nod—because I am okay.

Freddy steps up beside me as I head back into the house, flicking the brim of my backward hat playfully.

“So, I spoke to Paloma again,” Freddy says, nodding lightly at me. He mostly avoids my eyes, tapping his foot a little intensely. “I just wanted you to know. It was . . . good. Nice, to talk about it, I guess.”

He didn’t share the details, and neither did Paloma, but he’d asked to speak with her the other morning after family breakfast. The way Ro explained it to me, in her soft, gentle voice, Freddy and Paloma had something in common with their pasts. Something that might allow them to find comfort in each other, at least somewhat. I’d hugged Freddy when they returned to the table, which was something we’d never really done before.

“I’m glad you both have each other,” I say. He grins, all genuine and warm. He squeezes my shoulder and asks the same question Rhys asked mere moments ago.

“You good, Reiny?”

“Yeah.” I nod. “I’m good.”

My therapist and I spend a lot of time talking about my thought spirals—though they still plague me at times, they have become more manageable. I have a pathway or steps I can take to calm myself, which gives me the feeling of preparedness.

Last session, however, we’d discussed the upcoming changes: my friends all graduating and moving on, while I stayed at Waterfell for an extra semester to finish after changing my major.

But with Rhys and Freddy both leaving—one to play for the Rangers and one for Dallas—I decided to move out, too, to stay with my dad for the time being. Beacon Hill is a half hour from campus with no traffic, but I don’t mind dealing with it for the couple of months I have left.

And then . . . who knows what’s next? The thought would have filled me with pure anxiety four years ago. Now, I see my future and it’s bright; I just haven’t figured out the specifics. And that, I’m learning, is okay.

No one has to know who they are and what they want from life at twenty-one. It’s normal that I don’t.

Chapter 79

NOW

Paloma

“We can take it slowly, and if you want to stop, we will. You’re in control, Paloma.”

Dr. Sutton’s voice is calm and smooth. If she’d asked me this months ago, I think I might have snapped. Or never attended another session.

But I feel different now. Not better necessarily, when it comes to this topic. But at least stronger. Something about fighting back that day instilled a new mantra in my head: He can’t hurt me. And I can hurt him.

It might not be healthy, but it’s working for now.

In the past five months of therapy, we’ve talked circles around my mother, my trauma, and Ethan, but never specifics. And this time, I want to go through it all. Unpack it. Learn something and feel better about it—if that’s possible.

Maybe the timing is everything. Ethan’s trial won’t be for several months, but to see the line of young girls and women that have agreed to stand beside me and give their testimony has given me something I didn’t expect: Hope. The sense of not being alone.

For a long time, I blamed my younger self for being foolish and idealistic. For getting herself into that entire mess. For degrading herself and stooping so low, as if that would earn some kind of affection.